Back Rooms の小説・ストーリー

Eva agreed. They walk towards their room but before they even reach their door, they notice the door next to their's was ajar. Something was swaying in the air inside. It looks lik something dawned at them that made them lookd at each other before pushing the door wide open. What they saw next was something they would remember for the rest of their lives. It was Giselle who cried first for she and Violet were close. Eva was standing behind Violet remembering the last thing she said to her.

Noni said. "Then that's a reason not to idolize him," I looked sharply at Ken. "When did you learned to judged someone, huh Ken. You don't even know him and as Noni said, those are just rumors," "That's true," Noni agreed. After eating too much, I started to feel the need to pee. I excused myself and went outside the restaurant since there's no comfort room inside. I wandered around for how many minutes before I saw a room at the corner. It seems like it's an empty comfort room so I decided to enter. As I finished my meditation

The magenta feels louder than it looked in her bathroom mirror. Minnie steps into the front office of El Camino House with her hoodie tugged halfway over her freshly dyed hair, hoping to fly under the radar. But no such luck. The second she walks through the door, the scent of cinnamon coffee, printer toner, and overdue paperwork hits her—along with the voice that never misses a beat. “Well damn, who gave you a glow-up over the weekend?” calls Lani, her receptionist, spinning her chair halfway around to gawk. “Okay, Punk Barbie. I see you.”

The moonlight shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows turned the name on the property deed silver. A stray cat was tearing through a trash bag downstairs. The sound was reminiscent of when Matthew had kicked the trash bin over in the past. … During one of my night shifts, I passed by a red-light district when I was dropping off a client. Feeling bored while waiting for my next customer, I absentmindedly looked out the window and saw a familiar silhouette. The sounds of high heels clacking against the sidewalk were suddenly mixed with the loud clattering of plastic bottles rolling across the ground.

… The moment I hung up, Landon hugged me from behind. He rested his chin against my neck and rubbed it slightly, but said nothing. I couldn't help but smile. "What's wrong?" He asked, "Christine, will you go back?" I wondered, "Back where?" "To Gold City." I answered, "I don't have plans to go back for the moment, but who knows in the future? It's not like I've done anything shameful, so why can't I go back? My home is still there." Landon went silent again.

The stairs to the lower regulation suite were hidden in plain sight. They were not concealed behind a false wall or locked beneath chapel stone. That would have made them easier to fear, easier to recognize for what they were. Instead, they sat at the end of a perfectly ordinary service corridor behind a door labeled Laundry / Utility Access. It was exactly the kind of door adults stopped noticing after a week inside any institution. Maintenance needed somewhere to live, after all. Not every hallway could be sacred, threatening, or important enough to remember.

“Jane, I’ve already punished Ashley for you. She’ll spend the rest of her life in prison and will never bother you again! Even if you want the Roth Group, I can hand it over to you right now. Just turn back and look at me!” I cut him off. “Sean, give it up. I told you before. This is the end for us. I hope from now on that you’ll leave me alone.” I tossed out the words lightly, not sparing him another glance, and had security escort him out. The light in his eyes died instantly. He tried to chase after me, but the crowd swallowed him up. All he could do was watch as I walked farther and farther away. When the show ended, heavy rain poured down, washing away all the filth and ugliness.

As I walked out of the room, Amanda's desperate screams echoed behind me, but I never looked back. She was not sorry for what she had done. She was only afraid because she had lost everything.

The back office sat behind a frosted door, out of that frame, used for disputes and petty cash and the kind of conversations guests weren’t meant to overhear. “I can pull the folio here.” “I’d rather not discuss it in the open.” His eyes held hers. “If that’s allowed.” Allowed. The word sat between them like a key. She keyed them through. The back office was small: one desk, two chairs that no one used, a safe in the wall, a monitor showing hallways she wasn’t watching. The door sighed shut. The lock clicked because she turned it. She told herself it was policy. After midnight, you didn’t leave the cash drawer accessible.

0001pt; mso-pagination:none; text-align:justify; text-justify:inter-ideograph; font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family:宋体; mso-bidi-font-family:'Times New Roman'; font-size:10.5000pt; mso-font-kerning:1.0000pt; }span.msoIns{ mso-style-type:export-only; mso-style-name:""; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single; color:blue; }span.msoDel{ mso-style-type:export-only; mso-style-name:""; text-decoration:line-through; color:red; }div.Section0{page:Section0;} The backstage room is quiet enough to have a decent conversation. The muffled chaos of reporters outside seems not to penetrate through the walls to cause any disturbance.